


The Mysteries of Marcie Fleach: Chapter 15-Hunted

by Sketchpad



Series: The Mysteries Of Marcie Fleach [15]
Category: Scooby Doo! Mystery Incorporated (TV 2010)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-08 07:28:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11076861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sketchpad/pseuds/Sketchpad
Summary: The old world is dead, and yet Crystal Cove survives. Marcie and the gang have to contend with a stalker who is targeting one of them, as well as figure out what Greenman's ultimate goal is in Crystal Cove, before the town becomes his final victim!





	1. Chapter 1

A well-coifed, dark-suited man held a microphone in front of a busy, French-style cafe, while a cameraman silently counted down from five to one on his free hand.

"This is Rob Robins," the man introduced himself on cue, before he made a broad gesture to show the viewers the neighborhood he was standing in. "As you can see, this town, seemingly, looks no different than it had before. The people, the businesses, and architecture, all seem normal. But, there is a change in the air, slight differences to the look and feel of, not just this town, but everywhere, that one just can't wave away."

An edited montage of patrons walking by the cafe was shown to illustrate the reporter's point.

"Clothing is still modern for the time," he explained. "Yet, today, one can see a sprig of oak leaf set, as a boutonnière on a man's suit jacket, or a picture of an oak tree or leaf proudly worn on some boy's dirty t-shirt. Even women's and girl's fashion are equally adorned with such subtleties as a twig of ripe, eye-catching mistletoe. Is the fashion world, perhaps, going back to Nature?"

Another montage, this time of various places of worship, was shown, next.

"And what of religion?" he continued. "Here, the number of known churches, mosques and synagogues in Gatorsburg has dropped, mysteriously, with those numbers, now, being replaced by maypoles and quiet temples, surrounded by oak trees, that you can only visit through paths that wind deep into the woods, devoted to gods that the average Crystal Cove citizen would need to be a scholar in Celtic culture to grasp.

"Our local reporters have confirmed that a noticeable change in culture and behavior has visited the country, and indeed, the world, almost overnight, and yet, incredibly, Crystal Cove, itself, seemed untouched by these mysterious alterations. However, it didn't mean that we weren't affected by them.

"The fear began during typical phone calls to friends and family outside of town. People, who attempted to call, soon found that they couldn't get through to them, the phone numbers on the other end being invalid.

"When no solution was found, a number of citizens made fact-finding trips out of town. What they discovered only confused them, even more.

"Starting in Gatorsburg, our citizens who had friends and family, here, sought them out by address, and found something shocking. Those people, were either gone, or worse, were there, but had no knowledge of the visitors.

"As more worried citizens sought out loved ones across California, they soon discovered more of the same. In the end, they all returned home, to Crystal Cove, the one place of safety and stability they still knew of.

"Our own mayor, Janet Nettles, was reached for a comment," he said, leading to a clip of her interview in City Hall.

"As it stands, now, through our local media, we've learned that, somehow, because of our strange immunity to what has happened, we've been disconnected from the rest of the world, cut off from everything, and perhaps, every _one_ we once knew. Our people are, of course, nervous, but my administration will do all that it can to aid and comfort the good folk of Crystal Cove through this troubling time."

Then, the scene returned to the reporter.

"It is the opinion of this Regional Emmy Award-winning reporter that the whole country, maybe even the world, is playing some long-belated, far-reaching April fool's joke, and that we all the confused butt monkeys of it. This is Rob Robins, reporting from Gatorsburg. CC News."

Marcie reached down and turned off the small, battery-powered television set on loan from Dale Dinkley, ending that segment of the late afternoon news. Then, she noticed a cluster of errant fingerprint smudges by Velma's face.

"Ugh! Would it kill people to wear gloves while they work around here?" Marcie clucked like a wet hen, while she went about polishing the glasslike exterior of Velma and the others' stasis chamber.

Thanks to Schrödinger granting her very limited access to the building, this became her noonday ritual, every day, after school, a quick drive to Sundial to chat to the still immobilized Velma about overheard gossip and happenings in school, or give her the news of the day. Sometimes, she would, also, relay messages from Daisy to Daphne, as well.

She pulled her chair closer to where Velma was suspended, looking like a fragile specimen preserved in amber, close, yet unreachable.

Marcie sighed those feelings away, and related what was on her mind.

"Well, you heard the news, V. The world has become completely changed. Some are saying that it's a global Back-to-Nature movement, but I know what it really is. Greenman."

A focused look towards the silent Velma, prompted a response from Marcie.

"That's right, V," she said, as if she, somehow, heard Velma reply. "Druidry is in, and it all points to him. _He's_ a druid, he's partnered with the evil Dr. Quest, and used stolen time travel technology from Sundial. Now, everything's changed, except for Crystal Cove, and it's putting everybody on edge."

Another harkening look to Velma, had Marcie explaining more to her.

"Well, it's pretty obvious what happened, V. While we went looking for you, he was busy making changes to the past to make Druidry the dominant faith in the world. I know how he did it, I just don't know why. Even if he is devout, why go through all of that effort?"

She stood up to pace, working out the angles of possible motive, from the means and opportunity. "He's already on my hit list for hurting Dad, but why would he do that? Why was he so interested in Dad's park? There has to be a connection between that and what he's done, now."

Glancing over at the wall clock, she saw what time it was, and sighed. "It's getting late. I've got to go, V. I'll be back, tomorrow, and this time, I'll bring your cd player with me. I've already cued up your favorite songs."

She slipped on her book bag, picked the TV up, by the handle, placed a loving palm print on the glass in front of Velma's heart, and whispered, "I miss you."

Feeling at peace from the visit, she started to turn and leave the chamber room, and was suddenly startled to see Red running towards her, like a football player. He couldn't stop in time, and they crashed in a heap, to the floor, the TV sliding away from her.

"Red? What's going on? How did you get down here? How did you find me?" she sputtered. "You better not have broken Mr. Dinkley's TV set!"

"Marcie, I need help!" Red wailed.

"It's good that you're admitting to that to yourself. Now, all you need is some counseling," she quipped, as she straightened herself up and stood. "Now, what's this about?"

"I'm...being stalked!"

That gave Marcie pause, and she gave him a deeply quizzical look, knowing what she knew of the well-intentioned, intellectually non-curious braggadocio.

Red completely missed her skepticism. "Yeah, I know. You're thinking that with me looking this cool, why this hasn't happened years ago! Hey, even *I don't know why, but it's happening, now!"

Marcie put up her hands to pacify him. "Okay, Red, calm down. Now, who's, heh, stalking you?"

"I first saw her watching me from in front of Aunt Hedda's garage, a couple of days ago, after we came back from that crazy trip with the time machine, remember?"

"Yeah. So, did you see her anywhere else?" she asked.

"Almost everywhere I go, now, at the university, the mall, at work. I'm sad to say that, at the record store, it got...kind of violent."

Marcie gasped. "Red, you didn't hit her, did you?"

Red looked even more shocked than Marcie. "What? No way! Aunt Hedda raised me to never hit a girl, but I think my stalker's taking advantage of that, now. Just great, my moral upbringing is being tested by this devil woman."

"Take it easy. Have you told the Sheriff or a deputy?"

"Are you kidding?" Red asked, puffing up his already broad chest, defensively. "How would it look if I can't even handle some stupid crisis of the heart? I've got a rep, so I'm keeping this just between us. You got help me. Will ya?"

Marcie considered the time that would have been spent on her ongoing investigation against Greenman, being wasted, but, with a lack of solid leads, the priority, quickly, swung towards friendship, and so, she nodded.

"Okay, let's get the gang together," she said. "And solve this mystery."

* * *

In the circular conference room in the depths of Lab Facility #16, Everest Greenman raised an up-angled eyebrow in curiosity.

"Let me understand this," he said to Benton Quest. "You're saying that although I changed the history of the world, it ultimately worked out better for you? How so?"

Quest, lounging in the leather chair at the table's end, explained. "With the old timeline erased, you've also erased my outstanding criminal record, and the world's memories of it. Now, I can come out hiding, and expand my scientific endeavors, once again. It's one of the reasons I agreed to our strange partnership."

"I thought it had something to do with you needing a guinea pig to test out the Hour Arch," Greenman said, jovially.

 _'The thought had crossed my mind...several times,'_ Benton thought, as he lightly laughed the suspicion away. "Hardly. We both benefited from this. You survived and created your pagan utopia, and I'm a free man, again, with a brand new world ready to experience my genius."

"Not entirely brand new, Benton," Greenman warned him.

"Yes, I know. There's still the matter of Crystal Cove. Somehow, its history didn't change like everywhere else. Sundial may be the reason, an experiment in temporal shielding, perhaps."

"Perhaps," Greenman said, smoothly, contemplating how this unexpected little wrinkle could affect his goals, overall. "In any event, congratulations are in order. I trust that you will take advantage of the Hour Arch, soon, and go into the past to save your wife?"

Now, it was Quest who, imperceptibly, raised an eyebrow. On the surface of it, Greenman's question was supposedly innocent, but Quest's long suspicions of him told him that it was far more provocative and probing.

"That's the thing about time travel," he answered carefully. "You can't change one thing without upsetting a hundred others. Olivia lived and died in the old timeline. It would be unfair to undo all of your work in an attempt to save her. She must remain in the past, and I must do what I can to move on with my life."

"So, you don't have any plans to use the Hour Arch, at present?" Greenman asked, hiding his doubts that the doctor would ever be this self-sacrificing.

"Not at present, however, I may wish to make excursions into the future to see how things turn out from this point in the new history."

"I see," Greenman said, coolly. "I, too, lost a loved one, myself, a long time ago, and, like you, I had to understand that moving on was the best course of action, as well."

He stood from his chair, and said, with a gracious bow, "Forgive me, Doctor, but I have a lot of preparation to make before the week ends. Please, excuse me."

"Of course, Everest. I've been neglectful of my work, as well. I won't keep you any longer. Thank you for seeing me."

The moment Greenman left the room and the door shut, a concealed panel slid aside, revealing a small observation room used to spy on other administrators during their meetings to guard against disloyalty.

Race Bannon stepped into the larger room and stood near Benton.

"What do you think, Doc?"

"I think he saw through my ruse not to use the Hour Arch, right away. But, whether he saw through it, or not, we have to step up our plans to go back in time and undo his foolish crusade, so that I can start the start the empire of Time that I may someday leave to Jonny."

"I hope there's room in this new order for the likes of me, Doc."

"What, not have a place in my regime for my strong right arm and enforcer, or for Jonny's life-long friend, perfect spy and interrogator, Hadji? Oh, perish the thought, my old friend. We will meet more than our fair share of opposition in the past, and I will need all of my best people with me...when we crush it!"

"Well, when you put it like that, Doc, how can I say no?"

The two men shared a private chuckle, mentally preparing the betrayal that would fall on their dear, odd, financial benefactor, whose money and contributions to the temporal sciences, helped pave the way to their glory, and his destruction.


	2. Chapter 2

Nestled in the center of a trendy block, in one of the peripheral neighborhoods that encircled the vast campus of Darrow University, was a record store called The Vinyl Act.

Known by the locals and student body for its eclectic selection of all types of musical fare, it was as much a staple of college life as The Counter-Revolution, a local coffeehouse, Dog Ear's Book Store, or Campus Burger. But, today, it received an extra dose of notoriety, thanks to the police tape strung across the store's open doorway.

Marcie, Daisy, Red, and Jason strolled up to the front of the building, collectively considering their options to either wait for the deputy on duty to allow them to enter, or simply ask him or her what was seen in the store and work with that.

When they saw Sheriff Stone, obliviously, perusing through the record bins, their decision was made for them. Direct investigation, it was.

Marcie stepped up to the tape and lifted it high, so the rest could maneuver into the store, but Daisy, holding Red back, said to Marcie, "You and Jason go in first and look for clues. _I've_ got some questioning I want to do, out here, first."

Marcie looked where they were. There was no one around for Daisy to question, but she might have known something that the others didn't, so she shrugged. "Okay, Daisy. C'mon, Jason."

Once the other two entered the store, Daisy turned to face Red with a suspicious look in her eyes. "All right, Red, who is she, your _stalker_? It's obviously that you two must've met, somewhere."

"No way, Daisy!" Red exclaimed, confused as to why he was suddenly feeling guilty for no reason. It might have had something to do with Daisy sounding very much like his aunt whenever he was up to no good. "I was at Aunt Hedda's garage when she came on the scene, and we just saw each other."

"Across a crowded garage, maybe?" Daisy pressed.

"Huh? Nah, it was a slow day," Red answered, obliviously. "It wasn't that crowded."

She peered up at him with mistrust. "What did she look like? Was she one of those girls who hang out at Lambda Epsilon Gamma? You know the ones I'm taking about. Those girls the jocks at Mu Gamma Tau keep talking about?"

Red looked, thoughtfully. "Well, she had curly blond hair-" That was enough for Daisy.

"You remembered what she looked like?" she cut him off, he voice rising with every question she bombarded him with. "Was she cute? Did she have a winning personality? _Did she have a smile as bright as the sun?_ "

Still confused, even Red could tell that Daisy wasn't her normal self. "Uh, I didn't notice. Daisy, is there something wrong? You sound kind of...revved up."

Daisy stopped hyperventilating long enough to notice that she was hyperventilating, considering that if _Red_ noticed that she was a bit wound up, she had to be wound up, indeed.

"Oh, I, uh, just want to get to the bottom of this, that's all," she cheerfully lied, taking breaths to calm herself and regain her composure. "You know, the more information we have, the faster the mystery gets solved!"

 _'And the sooner I get Missy away from Red!'_ she thought, darkly.

"Yeah...okay." Red nodded, glad that the scene was resolved. He didn't realize how close he had been standing in the envious, destructive path of Hurricane Daisy. "Uh, let's see what Marcie and Jason found."

"Yeah...let's!" Daisy agreed, with a poorly disguised and slightly manic smile.

Red lifted the police tape for Daisy, and as she ducked under it and stepped inside, he was never so happy to get back into the case.

He knew that he wasn't as sharp at solving mysteries as the others, but he knew that he would have rather jumped into this mystery, than get entangled in a mystery that he knew he had no chance in solving.

_Girls._

* * *

Sheriff Stone straightened from his personal record search, when he saw the four teens approach from the corner of his eye.

"Okay, you kids step back," he warned, officiously. "I don't need you coming in and contaminating the crime scene."

"But, Sheriff, you're just going through the albums," Jason pointed out. "What are you looking for, in there?"

Caught, Stone puffed up and sniffed at the question. "For your information, I'm checking to see if this was a botched smash and grab. The suspect might have wanted to steal any cool music from here, since the price of all the music will, no doubt, be hiked up."

"Why is that?"

He sighed at the questioning. "Haven't you heard the radio stations outside of town, lately? They're all playing these weird Celtic versions of popular tunes! Although, I do kind of like the uilleann horn solos on their version of Pink Floyd's _Us and Them_. Anyway, K-COOL is still going through their old playlists, so there's that, at least, and I'm here to make sure that these rare musical gems were pilfered by our suspect."

"Somehow, I doubt that the crime scene is between Slim Whitman and Hank Williams, Sr.," Marcie snarked at his weak excuse.

"Look, I don't have to answer to you, Miss Smarty-britches!" he sputtered in a high octave. "You kids don't know! These are classics, worth more, _now_ , than they did before all of this nonsense. Besides, we're lucky that this is the worse that we have to deal with, right now. Mayor-wife has enough to worry about, trying to assure the people that we can rise above this civil chaos. My men and I are doing the best we can to keep a lid on all of this."

Considering what he had just said, Marcie put the days of news reports she had seen, together with what she had parsed through Stone's babble. Despite his unprofessional and marginal incompetence, what he and his people were dealing with was both serious and true, and it wouldn't help matters to purposely get in the way of that.

"We understand, Sheriff." Marcie said with a nod, angling towards the incongruous sight of the building's front door resting on a pair of record bins in the back of the store. "We'll try not to get in your way."

"See that you don't," Stone said, resuming his hunt for more classic Country and Western lp's.

"A change of heart, Marcie?" Jason said in low tones, while Marcie headed to the door, non-chalantly. "I didn't see that coming."

"The sheriff's right," she explained. "Think of human beings like herd animals. If a few get skittish, the rest will, too, and this town is getting tenser every day. The people need answers, if we're going to get through this without Crystal Cove being set on fire."

"We can always go to Mayor Nettles, and ask her to ask the sheriff to let us work with him," Jason suggested.

Marcie shook her head. "She's got enough on her mind without us shoving a wedge between the two of them."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I don't want to be responsible for their kids having divorced parents. They'll find me and beat me up."

"Exactly," said Marcie. "I'm going to check the door for clues. You go and question the cashier."

Jason nodded. "All right."

He waddled over to the store's proprietor, Colin, who was busy leafing through a months-old music industry magazine, and bopping his head, softly, to Bauhaus coming from the store's speaker system.

He looked up from his reading. "How are you doing?"

"Hi, there," said Jason. "Do you know what happened, here?"

Colin shrugged. "It's just what I told the sheriff. Red and I were talking about how crazy the world was getting, after he picked up his new Barry Manilow album."

That comment was met with a hiss, as Red sternly shushed him.

"Hey, you shouldn't be ashamed, Red," Colin teased. "Guys like him, too,"

"Well, I didn't know Red was a Fanilow, but that doesn't mean that the world's crazy because of it," Daisy replied.

"No," Colin corrected her. "He was just here to pick up the album. The world's gone crazy from something else."

"Oh, okay. Go on."

"Anyway, I said that I wanted to call my friend in Irvine, but I couldn't get through, because the phone was disconnected on his end. So, while we were talking, I heard the door open, but we didn't look to see who came in. The next thing we knew, the front door winds up on top of Independent Artists and Show Tunes, and some girl starts to move in on Red. I mean, that door was always kind of loose, but, man! He managed to give her the slip, and run out of the store, just as I was calling the police. Then, she just walked out."

"See?" A vindicated Red asked Daisy. "I told you. That girl's bad news."

"I guess you're right, Red," she admitted, pensively. "We have to stop her before she does to you what happened to that door."

The rest of the gang soon reconvened with Marcie, who, armed with a magnifying lens, carefully swept the surface of the door where it laid, atop the two bins of broken albums, a top hinge hanging loosely from it.

"What do you see?" Red asked.

"I'll tell you what I don't see. Fingerprints."

"What are you talking about? People have been coming and going through here since before I showed up. There should be tons of fingerprints," Red said.

"There _are_ typical fingerprints on the inner and outer doorknobs, and the outer face of the door, which make sense, since the door needs to be pushed in to open," she said, explaining her findings to them.

Looking up, she noted, "However, judging from the condition of what's left of the upper hinge, the door had to be wrenched from its frame, and it's the absence of fingerprints, on the sides where the door would have been grabbed, that's the big clue."

"Meaning what?" Jason asked her.

Marcie gave him a knowing look, while Red and Daisy looked on in mild confusion. "Meaning, Jason, that I think that you and I might have to finish that little project of ours a lot sooner that I thought."

* * *

Red led the gang through the busy, winding paths, thoroughfares and promenades of the university campus.

"Where are we going, Red?" Marcie asked. "Are you following a hunch that because the stalker knew that you went into the neighborhood record store, that she might live in the area or might even be a student of the university?"

Red's focus was taken away by the questioning. "Huh? No. Jason wanted to swing by Campus Burger for something to eat, and in a rare moment of unity, I was thinking the same thing. Maybe some food will help take my mind off of all this, for a while."

"It works for me, although normally, food helps me think better," Jason added.

"Then, you must smarter than Einstein by now," Red said, stopping in front of the restaurant to quip.

Jason caught up to him, and countered. "Ha, ha. No, just you."

A quick pluck behind Jason's ear, prompted the customary wail of, "Daisy!" from him, followed by her giving Red the customary, punitive jab against his upper arm, which was about as effective as hitting a half-frozen side of beef, but Red always knew that it communicated her displeasure with him bullying the younger teen.

"Sorry," Red muttered.

"Not to me," she said, sounding almost maternal. "To him."

Red scoffed.

"Go on, or you can't eat."

"What? It's a restaurant. I can come in, if I want to," he defended, again, feeling like he was on the bad side of his aunt, all of the sudden.

"Okay, let me clarify that," Daisy said. "Apologize, or you can't eat...with me."

That gave him pause. To be denied any time with Daisy was a harsh penalty to bear. His bruised ego would have to be the price he would pay.

He slouched his head and acquiesced. "All right."

As the girls went into Campus Burger, Red stood outside with an awaiting Jason, but what he said next, was no apology.

"Jason, I might have to go away."

Jason had to admit that he was not expecting that. "Aw, c'mon, Red. We pick on each other all the time. I'm sorry you got in trouble with Daisy, but it's wasn't _that_ serious."

Red's expression hadn't changed, which only raised Jason's worry. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Jace. I just might have to blow town, soon, that's all."

"That's all?" Jason parroted in a concerned and higher octave. "Why, and just as importantly, why are you telling _me_ this?"

Red sighed and gave a glance towards the eatery. "Because, I can't tell the girls. Marcie's busy enough dealing with this case, and that Greenman guy. I can tell you, because, _technically_ , you're a guy, and you're the only other one who knows what's going on."

"Really? So, trusting me with your bro secrets, like what a huge Manilow fan you are?" Jason asked, with an inner glee. Apart from his internet friends, who were probably gone, thanks to the recent changes in the timeline, he hadn't any close friends in town, forcing him to be a mother-coddled recluse at an early age.

But, being with Red these past few months, and running with Marcie on the odd case, opened a door of confidence in him, and in the cocky, rough-around-the-edges Red, he saw more than just a burgeoning friend, but a surrogate big brother, a bond that he was sure Red, secretly, shared.

Red scoffed, again. "I didn't say that, and if you spread my musical tastes around, I'll spread _you_ around with a steamroller. It just means that I trust you to keep an eye on my two favorite girls in the world."

Jason was confused at Red's emotional state. All of this drama was over them? "Your pet goldfish?" he, naively, asked.

Red rolled his eyes heavenward. "Ugh! No, Aunt Hedda and Daisy! I want you to keep an eye on them. I'm thinking about leaving town, not to protect myself from the stalker, but because if we can't put the breaks on this thing, then...I'm gonna have to leave, and just hope that Little Miss Nutcase follows me."

"By yourself? But, why? That's too dangerous."

"I can't have her sticking around, and maybe hurting them, if she can't get to me. If I can bait her, while I'm on the move, then hopefully, she'll focus on me, and they'll be safe. But, I don't want them to know about that, and I don't want you telling them, or they'll worry. I don't want them to worry."

"They're going to worry, anyway, Red, when they want to see you, and you're not around, anymore," Jason reasoned.

His eyes, downcast, even Red couldn't escape that logic. "Yeah, I know, but look at me. I look like trouble. I'm hoping that they'll think I was just a loser, all along, and not care, after a while."

That didn't compute with Jason. Red was many things: cocksure, strong, and even loyal. The one thing he would have never thought Red would refer to himself as, was a loser. It was departure of what he knew of him, and for a moment, he wondered if the change in the outside world had anything to do with it.

"Is that what you think others think of you as?" Jason asked.

The question hit Red like a left hook. He wasn't prepared to answer it, or thought that he ever could. "I-I don't think so. I don't know. I do alright with Aunt Hedda. She raised me, and I know that she loves me."

"But."

"I'm crazy about Daisy, and I don't know why she wants to talk to me, sometimes," he sighed. "I'm just a grease monkey, a wrench jockey, an incredibly handsome one, but still, I know the score. Daisy's a _Blake_. She may not act like it, but she's a regular uptown girl, from one of the richest families in town."

"So what?" Jason countered. "You know that she likes hanging out with us."

"Maybe, but what if being with me is, you know, just something she did to pass the time, until she meets someone better? If I can pull this off, then I can, at least, keep my troubles off her and Aunt Hedda's backs. They deserve that."

Jason was surprised. Tough guy Red Herring had a heart, not only tattooed on his shoulder, but worn on his sleeve.

"If you say so, Red, but it still sounds pretty reckless," Jason said, not entirely convinced of the soundness of his friend's pending action. "You should, at least, wait until we've done all we can, first."

Red shrugged at the common sense and logic of that. "Maybe. We still have time, I guess, but the stalker's not after you."

Then, he perked up, and assumed his cocky attitude towards life, in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Besides, my plan'll work. What are you worried about, Jellyfish, that you won't have a guy as cool as me to talk to, anymore?"

With that, Red turned on the heel of his boot, and walked into Campus Burger. Pouring his heart out gave him a man-sized appetite.

"Maybe," Jason fretted, before following him in.

* * *

"Did you two patch things up?" Daisy asked Red, as they all sat in a booth and prepared to dig into their purchases.

His thoughts were, once again, taken from him by questions. "Huh? Oh, yeah, Daisy! We're the best of buds, right, Jason?"

"Yeah, yeah!" Jason concurred between mouthfuls of chili burger. "We'll always be together, even after this blows over!"

Jason jumped as a quick kick from Red struck his shin. "Ow!"

The bell by the glass doors rang, announcing another patron.

"Are you okay, Jason?" Marcie asked.

"Uh, yeah. I just said 'Wow!' because this burger's so good. It's fine. Everything's fine."

Satisfied with that, Marcie said to Red, "Okay, you said that the stalker kept following you, that you saw her everywhere you went. Were you with someone at those places?"

"Nope," he answered. "I always rode, alone."

Jason was about to take another bite, and wash it down with more Grape Ape soda, when he noticed a young woman sauntering by the table, behind the side of the booth where Red was sitting.

"Oh, hi, there!" he said to her.

Curious, Red turned to glance over at who Jason had greeted, and screamed.

A woman with curly blonde hair and a determined stare, reached over and grabbed Red by his resilient, leather vest, and slung him out of the booth. He landed into a tumble across the tiled floor that ended with him colliding with the base of the front counter.

As Red recovered from the trip, he, reflexively, backed further along the counter, while the cashier ran into the kitchen, in the back, and the other patrons fled towards the freedom of the parking lot.

Marcie thrust her hand into her jacket pocket, while she muttered, "Well, this proves that she's after him, specifically."

"Look! You've gotta take no for an answer!" Red attempted to reason with her, as she approached. "You look great, by the way, and, hey, I understand the attraction, but I told you that I already like somebody else. Don't take it personally! It's just bad timing, that's all!"

"Maybe, she knows you like Manilow," Jason said, hiding under the booth's table.

"You're not helping, Jellyfish!" Red yelled at him, then said to the woman, "You-You can't keep doing this! I may be tough, but-but I've got friends!"

"You need a restraining order!" Jason interjected.

The woman curled her fingers, eager to find something on Red to clutch and, quite possibly, injure, as she wordlessly moved in to strike.

Cornered, Red curled up and gave a high-pitched wail. " _Auntie!_ "

Ice, suddenly, spread around her feet, thickening into a mass that cemented her to the floor, and threatened to make her fall, if she attempted to continue moving forward.

As Marcie applied more Insta-Ice at the girl's feet, three officers from campus security, finally, burst into the restaurant.

The first two officers flanked behind her, as she twisted to try and face them, each grabbing an arm to restrain her. The last one provided cover and called the arrest in via walkie-talkie.

She snatched her left arm away from the one who grabbed her there, reached back and clutched him by the throat, lifted him, and flung him over the counter top. The officer clipped his head against the side of the cash register and collapsed on the other side in a moaning heap.

The officer on her right arm was thrown off with the force of a small catapult, where he landed atop a table in the dining area, smashed it in two parts with his weight, and lay upon the wreckage, the wind, completely, knocked out of him.

The covering officer rushed at her from the side, preparing to subdue her in a regulation, textbook take-down, but was he seen from the corner of her eye.

A backhanded swing whipped out and connected with the side of the jaw, causing the man to spin from her, like wobbly top, until he crashed, with even less dignity, upon the rest of the gang, in their booth.

"She's one of those Questoid things?" Daisy asked, incredulously, while pulling out from under the stunned policeman. She didn't know why the machine was after Red, specifically, but she was more than ecstatic that, whatever the reason, it couldn't romantic in nature. " _Yes!_ I mean, be careful, guys! She's a killer robot, and not, in any way, a real-life stealer of guys, unless, she likes guys, anyway."

"Get Red, Daisy!" Marcie yelled, throwing another Insta-Ice capsule at the gynoid's feet. "She's trying to break out!

The blond stooped down and proceeded to punch against the growing ice, buying Daisy time to rush over to Red.

The Questoid managed to crack the block, sufficiently, to lift and pull the block apart with her legs, spraying cold water and ice shards in their faces.

Although the sheer weight of the ice around her feet, make her movements sluggish, she was still close enough to reach down and grab at Daisy, to tear her away from Red, but then, she was halted by the sound of campus police cars coming onto the scene.

With a microsecond's deliberation, and two stamps of her feet, hitting the floor with enough force to make the windows rattle, the ice shattered, and she turned and ran from Campus Burger, the new officers attempting to give chase.


	3. Chapter 3

Marcie sat with Daisy and Jason on the curved, stone base of a fountain after slipping out of the chaotic crime scene that was Campus Burger. She gently swished her thin hand in its pool, calming herself with its babbling waters, while she and the others held a conference.

"Another Questoid?" Jason asked. "B-But, I thought that we destroyed it!"

"We destroyed the prototype that was sent to get me," Marcie corrected him. "After that, my mom and I destroyed the laboratory, in Gatorsburg, where it came from, but if there's another Questoid, then that means that Dr. Quest has to have another lab hidden, somewhere close, like in town."

"But, why is she... _it_ ,after me?" Red asked, standing by the fountain, and glancing around, nervously.

Marcie shook her head. "I don't know, Red. It took all of us, and my mother, to bring it down, so, logically, we should _all_ be targeted. Why would he just send her, and only after you? It makes no sense."

"Plus, how does she know where you are, all the time?" Daisy asked Red.

"Darned if I know," he said with a glum shrug. "What happens, now?"

An sudden idea made Jason grin. "Guys, I think I have an idea!"

* * *

The soft sounds of the office's miniature waterfall and pool put Greenman's busy mind at ease.

He risked his life to use a barely tested time machine to invade the impossible landscape of the past. He risked it again, countless times, both on the battlefield, and the political stage, to bend the iron immutability of ancient history to his will and faith.

Now, this massive man, this world-weary conqueror and lord of earthly wealth and treasure, humbly knelt before his oak and ivy shrine in the small, private chapel that sat hidden, off to the side, nodding in prayer at the three gold-inlayed, wooden figurines that stood on the alter.

As if, through a dream, Greenman could see himself standing in the clearing of a forest of the mind, easily entered through the discipline of long years of meditation, and standing calmly before him, were the triumvirate avatars of Esus, Teutates, and Taranis.

They spoke to him in a single voice, and what was said was a warning.

"Blood and belief has guided your steps along the endless path of days, but be wary."

Greenman knew that they meant time, when they said, '...the endless path of days,' but he was so close to complete success. What was left to concern him?

"Why?" he asked.

"Because she has trod that very road, herself, and knows that you have walked it, as well."

Greenman knew who 'she' was, and was, genuinely, surprised and troubled by the news. He always figured Marcie to be, at best, an annoyance, and, thoughtlessly, taunted to Winslow that his child had more spine than him, but he had no idea the risky lengths she went through to get in his way.

He would have called her efforts suicidal, if they hadn't achieved anything but raise his ire, but if the gods thought it important enough to warn him about her, even after he laid the old world to dust, then whatever she was doing under his nose was working, and he secretly began to understand and fear that, somehow, she could counter him in ways even he hadn't considered.

"Winslow's daughter? _She_ traveled back in time? Incredible! Impossible! To what end? To stop me?" he asked them, a touch of anxiety rising in his throat.

"No. She faced the chaos to reclaim comrade and kin."

Greenman considered that, for a moment. Marcie didn't travel back because of him, but for someone else.

"Then, perhaps she doesn't know what I've done," he speculated, his worries, easing.

"She knows," they said, directly. "While her people clamor, and she has little proof, her eyes still see your hand behind it. Even now, as then, she desires to tear through your stratagems and bring you down, to save her village, and avenge her father's honor."

Hearing about her motivations struck an uncomfortable chord within him, but he grimly shook it from his mind. "Her father was a fool, and Marcie Fleach will fail in defending him, and besting me. You have made me the Undying Pagan Emperor, and after my great offerings to you, the world will know that, once again!"

"Perhaps," they said, calmly. "This town is the pebble in your boot, small, but if left alone, can cause you pain in your path to glory. You have the powers we blessed you with, to use its leaders and its people to your benefit, and bring down the daughter of Fleach. But, be cautious, or all of your schemes will be laid bare before her, and you will be undone."

The pull and rush of conscious thought had Greenman staring at the figures gracing the silver bowl of pure spring water in front of him, again.

Once more, they felt the need to admonish him about that miserable stripling of a girl, yet he tamped down his disdain, and nodded solemnly, committing to memory their sagacity and guidance.

He would sooner crush her, now, just for proving what a vexation she was to him, but he had a town to put under his thumb, before he could honor his gods, properly. Then, he would show them what he thought of the bothersome little Marcie Fleach.

* * *

Red found himself, uncomfortably, constrained on the floor of the dark room. He twisted to his side, fighting against the confinement of the bag, for want of more room and flexibility.

Breathing grew more troubled, and he desperately needed to free his large frame from his restraint, so he maneuvered his hand along his side, and unzipped the sleeping bag with a gasp of relief.

From his bed, in his oversized pajamas, Jason looked down to where Red was lying, and asked, "Something wrong, Red?"

"It's this torture device of a sleeping bag you gave me," Red groused. "It's too small, and anyway, you have to explain to me, again, why I'm playing sleepover with you."

"What's wrong?" Jason asked, again, sitting up. "I always wanted to have even one friend come by for a sleepover."

"I'm way too cool to be doing that." Red grumbled to himself.

"Well, if you want to be the coolest guy in the graveyard, you'll stop complaining and settle in," his host pointed out.

In the dark, Red rolled his eyes at the logic. "Whatever."

"C'mon, Red, don't be that way," Jason sighed, hoping that his hospitality wouldn't degenerate into full-blown aggravation. "The girls are too busy to keep an eye on you. Daisy's back at the university asking those Lambda Epsilon Gamma sorority girls she knows, and campus police about Enid-"

"Enid?" Red asked. "Who's Enid?"

"That's who I call the Questoid."

"Why Enid?" he asked, again, perplexed.

Jason shrugged. "She kind of looks like an Enid."

"Brother," Red sighed, as Jason continued.

"Anyway, Marcie snuck back into Crystal Cove High, to use their chemistry labs, after-hours, like she has for a few months, now, only this time, it's for her half of a project she and I are working on."

"So, I get to crash here with you?" Red figured with sarcastic glee. "Yippee-skippee!"

Jason gave a defiantly happy smile. He wasn't going to loose a chance to bond with an associate, simply because he was being a grump. "C'mon! Oh, I know! Let's talk about the babes. Who do you like?"

"I thought you start losing your memory when you get old," Red sighed. He didn't mind the topic, he just wished that he could talk about it with guys who wouldn't make the conversation so... _nice_. "You know who I like, Jason."

"Oh, yeah! I forgot. Duh!" Jason chuckled. "Just making conversation. Anyway, I've got a girl on my mind, too."

"I know better that to ask, but who?

"Velma..." Jason answered, dreamily.

It took a few seconds for him to recall who she was. She sounded familiar, but only because she was someone that Marcie couldn't stop talking about, at times. "That four-eyed girl we brought back from the past? Marcie's friend? You're into her? Ha! Nerds of a feather, I guess."

Jason pointed to Red, pedantically, and said, "She's a nerd, I am a geek. There's a difference."

"Well, forgive me if I don't ask what that is. Besides, it's not like you've got competition for her, or anything."

"Actually, I do, as a matter of fact," Jason began, and then, said, more hesitantly, "A competitor who told me in no uncertain terms that my block would get knocked off, if I got too close to her."

Red found himself perking up to the possibility of violence. "Yeah? Well then, you just gotta man up, and say that it's a free country, and if you wanna rumble for her, I've got space on my calendar."

Aggression was such an alien concept to Jason, especially in combination with matters of the heart, that this completely bewildered and fascinated him, simultaneously. "That's what you'd say if someone wanted Daisy?

Red shrugged. "Words are too wordy. I'd just deck 'em."

Jason looked a little troubled by that. "A bit primitive, isn't it?"

"Yeah, so is the wheel, but it still gets the job done!" Red said with a grin.

Jason decided that such chaotic, boorish behavior would be counter-productive to achieving his goals, in the long run, so he took to weak bravado, to illustrate the point.

"Well, it's not like I couldn't man up and go into the past and save her," he said, sounding a bit petulant. "I could've done that, if I wasn't-"

"A Momma's Boy?" Red interrupted, to Jason's chagrin.

"I was going to say 'busy,' thank you very much, and looks who talking? If I'm a Momma's Boy, then what are you, an _Auntie's_ Boy?"

"What are you saying?" Red asked, defensively.

"I'm saying that was a very distinct cry for help you gave, back there at Campus Burger."

Again, Red was hamstrung by logic and simple observation. Who pays attention to what happens in the recent past, anyway? "Whatever. Anyway, who's the chump?

"Chump?"

"The guy who's gunning for your girl!" Red reminded him in exasperation. "Keep up, will ya?"

Jason found himself staring at his hands, nervously. "Oh, uh, well, it's not a chump, per se. It's someone we know, in fact. It's Ma-"

He was cut off by his mother calling from the hallway outside his bedroom. "Jason, are you and your friend in bed, yet? It may be a sleepover, but you still have to school to go to, in the morning."

"Yes, Mom!" he answered.

"All right. Good night, dear!"

"Good night, Mom!"

He turned back to continue his talk with Red, but Herring was already sprawled out of his sleeping bag, drifting off into a deep sleep.

"Never mind," he muttered, before settling back into bed.

* * *

The moon had long swung across the dark sky a few degrees, denoting that hours had passed, uneventfully, in the deepening night.

A car that had been cruising along the main and side streets of Jason Wyatt's neighborhood, had parked two blocks before his house, its single occupant watching the street up ahead.

Although it hadn't reached Midnight, it was still late enough for Red to slip out of the dark, quiet house, take his bike from where he parked it on the lawn, and walk it up the street, so as not to wake anyone up at home, when he started it up.

"I've gotta admit," he said to himself, as if to convince himself of why he was still going along with this. "Ol' Jellyfish and his mom were pretty nice to help me out like that, but if that robot knew where I was when I _wasn't_ hiding, like at Campus Burger, what makes everybody think that we gave her the slip?"

He rolled the motorcycle up to the corner, and judged that he was far enough from the house to ride, now.

He straddled the vehicle and was about to take off, when a figure up the block, regarded him and began to skip into a jog, accelerating with every second that passed.

When the runner suddenly flashed under a nearby street light, Red gulped hard at the sight of Enid the Questoid bearing down on him.

He throttled up and surged forward, as if to ram her, with the robot endeavoring to intercept, but he veered away at the last moment, making her miss him by scant feet.

As he roared up the street, Enid didn't break stride and proceeded to run full-bore after him, as the driver knocked over a cd, and a greasy receipt from a diner, put his car into gear, and drove off into the night.

* * *

The moonlight on the bay made the otherwise coastal, industrial landscape of the Crystal Cove Docks look quiet and peaceful. That peace was soon disturbed, however, by the growl of a motorcycle tuning in from the near-deserted highway to enter one of its service roads and crossing its rail line, followed closely by a sprinting, blonde, teenage girl.

Through miles of high-speed pursuit, Enid would not be shaken from Red, tracking him by sight, alone, and putting her pelvic suspension and leg drivetrain to the test to stay with him through every weave into traffic and leap into mazes of small streets. Just as Red wanted.

He instinctively knew that she would stop and think that he was actually leading her somewhere, deliberately, if he didn't make his evasion convincing, although his desperate need to stay ahead of her killer strength, added a great deal to the performance.

He needed a way to get more distance from her, so he gambled, hugely. He slowed to a stop on the gravel between the railroad ties, and looked back. Enid was closing in.

He switched gears, stood above the seat, and gunned the engine, keeping his front brake and clutch applied, so that he was doing a hastily done Burnout, his back tire spitting gravel stones and dust in her direction, at almost ballistic speeds.

Her vision was momentarily diminished, as grit impacted and deflected off of her body, face, and eyes, scratching and bouncing off of the lenses and getting under her eyelids, further impairing her ability to clear the debris from there.

She stopped to shield her eyes from more of the storm with an upraised arm, while she attempted to wipe the dirt away. By the time she managed to clear enough of the dust to allow her to scan ahead with a good ninety-two percent visual acuity, Red had disappeared.

Increasing the gain of her audio sensors, Enid ignored the other passages made from giant shipping containers stacked near the sides of warehouses, and walked straight ahead. If she caught any incongruous sound, she would bear on its location, but so far, her path was silent.

It was only when she reached a side passage made by other containers, that she heard it, a soft clanging coming from within, almost taunting in its tempo.

She turned to see Red in the depths of the path, swinging two small, obviously, metal objects into each other.

"I don't know why you're going after me, babe, but you're way too close to my friends and family," Red said, in the gloom. "So, I figured I'd lead you, here, so I can have you all to myself."

He thought about what he just said, and was, suddenly, troubled by it, so he, quickly, said, "Uh, y'know what? Forget that last part. It sounded pretty cool in my head, but I know Daisy would just blow a gasket, if she heard me say that to you."

Enid's response was to take off in a run to finish Red. Wisely, he headed around a dark corner.

The second Enid made the turn, she was caught off-guard and blinded again, as fire-retardant foam and pressurized mist blasted from the nozzle of a small extinguisher tank, one of two Red held in each hand.

The moment's hesitation was the only opportunity he had to launch into his attack, side-stepping from her, raising the tanks overhead and swinging them down upon her head with enough force to make her skull ring through the fake skin and hair.

The impact staggered her, coupled with the disorientating effect of not seeing where he, or the next attack was coming from. She haphazardly reached for him, a deadly arm thrust from the confusing mist. A tank swung into her, hitting her fingers hard enough to dislocate one of them.

This was Red's desperate ploy, a constant barrage of surprising, heavy blows to, hopefully, bring her down. From the first swing, until now, he never stopped long enough to do anything other than judge his distance from her, otherwise, he didn't stop swinging the tanks in his hands upon her in a whirling dervish of unpredictable hits.

It was a ballet of brutal tactics, as gouts of foam and mist would be used to hamper her combat awareness, followed swiftly by lateral swings of the tanks to the body, or side of the head, sometimes, crudely, pirouetted to build up momentum before the strike, then sweeping up, in an unbroken move, into vicious overhead swings down into her skull, again.

If an arm should reach out through the cloud, for him, he would whip a tank down on it with force sufficient to severely bruise, or even fracture a human one, although he knew it connected solidly when the limb rang through the skin.

And so it went, for long minutes, with Red ignoring the fiery fatigue in his lungs, and the pain of the tank handles biting into his fingers and palms, as the air around the docks rang with the constant gongs of his rendition of The Anvil Chorus, until, finally, it stopped.

Gasping, Red was hunched over, raw hands still holding the near-exhausted tanks and his shaking knees, to keep himself standing, somewhat.

He had to rest, but he stayed to watch the figure in the midst of the dissipating cloud. He remembered Jason's trepidations about this plan, and had to admit that it wasn't likely to work, but he welcomed the chance to try, anyway, with no regrets.

Enid stood where she was, assessing damage reports and watching the spent Red from a surviving optic. The damage was determined to be, at best, superficial; gashes, rips, and slight impairment to her arm and torso movement where her myo-armor, actually, succumbed to his focused blows, and more serious; mild shock damage that made it to her computer brain through repeated, gravity-assisted strikes to the skull, causing her to experience the more human sensations of intermittent double vision, difficulty in recent mental recall, and a slight loss of equilibrium.

However, the toll paid in wounds was not dire enough to stop her from moving over to Red, and punching him in the solar plexus, bringing him, instantly.

Enid, then stopped to think on how to dispose of him, the mission stressed that she eliminate him quickly.

Crushing his skull or spine was an approaching option, but then, either through luck, or her slight computer damage, the realization of where he led her, superseded, suddenly.

If she were human, she would have smiled at the delicious irony of it, as she reached down and clutched a handful of his wife beater and leather vest, and dragged him, unsteadily, from the passage, towards the pier.


	4. Chapter 4

The car was parked in a dark corner where shipping containers were stacked, blocking the moonlight. The target had entered the area, and now, it was just a waiting game to watch it leave and see where the chase led next.

The driver took a stretch and settled into the driver's seat to possibly catch a nap, when a tiny glint of light shined on the rear-view mirror, bringing the tracker back on alert. It was a distant pair of headlights.

Red's breathing was labored, and he vaguely felt his legs growing heavy, as he gradually climbed back into consciousness. He saw the moon half-shrouded in the low clouds across the bay, its glow playing silently on the waves, and then he felt a tug on his legs, looked down, and discovered the reason for their atypical weight.

Enid was finished looping a length of chain around Red's legs and feet, and then, she pulled the chain taut to tighten the mass. From where he was lying and what was immobilizing him, Red had little doubt about what she was planning for him.

"You've gotta strange idea about what a moonlight swim is," Red quipped, as he tried to fight against Enid, who was rolling him closer and closer to the edge of the pier, and the inky waters below.

His body was pushed until it was just a few feet from the end of the platform, when she stopped in reaction to the sound of a car diving full-speed in the distance, behind her.

Enid stood up and turned to see The Clue Cruiser finished threading the maze of containers and bearing down on their direction.

The distraction bought Red moments to reach down and frantically work some slack into the chain, as Enid stepped from the pier's edge to face down the intruders.

Tracking the car's movement with her good optic, she subtly assumed the stance of a standing jump. When Red's friends drove close enough, she would launch herself into the open-topped convertible and slaughter everyone within it.

The VW was just yards from her, and Enid applied more power to her leg drivetrain for an extra boost of height, when something hit her hard, from behind and below.

Her heavy chain whipped around her knees and calves, tangling against them, like a bola, taking her attention away from car. She reached down to loosen it, just as Red yelled, "Now!" rolled off the side of the pier and held on to its edge.

Preoccupied, and no longer able to jump efficiently, Enid was emblazoned in the Clue Cruiser's headlights, as Marcie accelerated.

Her car rammed into Enid with more than enough force to bounce her off of the rounded trunk and front bumper, and have her flying backwards into the bay, with a satisfying splash, weighed down by her own chains.

The car skidded to a halt before Marcie, Daisy, and Jason rode too far on the pier. They disembarked and called out for Red.

"Down here!" he answered, before all three grabbed a wrist, and began pulling Red's climbing bulk back up on the edge. Then, they all sat in a tired cluster on the platform, huffing from their exertions and the close call.

"I knew you'd go ahead with that dumb plan of yours," Jason said, catching his breath.

"You followed me?" Red huffed. "How did you know where I was?"

"I put a tracking device on his bike when you weren't looking."

Red puffed up with indignation at the imagined 'violation' of his motorcycle, however necessary it may have been. "Hey! I don't go around touching your science stuff, do I?"

Daisy saw through his bluster and snapped, "Never mind that! Why didn't you tell me about all of this, Red?"

Red's head bowed, guiltily. "You told her, too? Jeez! I can't trust you with nothin'!"

Daisy scowled. "Answer me, or you'll be swimming home."

"Okay, okay! Sheesh, you're hardcore for a slacker. I wanted to lure the robot away, so she wouldn't come after you and Aunt Hedda."

Her response to that was a sharp punt to his shin. "Ow, Daisy! Why'd you kick me for?"

"Because, I'm too tired to punch you!" she answered, matter-of-factly. "Obviously, she stomped you into the curb. What if we didn't make it in time? We would've lost you, you doofus!" She punctuated that point with a punch to his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Daisy," Herring said, sheepishly. "You, too, guys. I thought it would work. I didn't want you guys getting hurt because of me."

"You can make it up to Daisy, after we get out of here," Marcie suggested, as she checked the surface of the black water for signs of a disheartening breach. "Questoids are tough, and that dip in the pool's not going to slow her down for long."

* * *

Jason couldn't help salivating as the rest of his friends squeezed in around him in the semi-circular booth inside Rude Pizza, the next day. The sounds of ska and the heady aroma of baked Italian foods weighed as heavily in the air, as the questions on how to keep Red safe did in their minds.

Each reached for a slice of the pizza Daisy was treating them to, and chewed it, and their musings, over.

"I don't understand how she knows where I am. Is it my after shave?" Red asked.

"I didn't know that you shaved," Jason admitted to him.

"I don't, but it never hurts to smell good."

"I doubt that," said Marcie.

"What?" Red asked, indignantly. "That I don't smell good?"

"No, that she follows you because of your after shave, but you said that you saw her everywhere you went. Were you with anyone else at those places?"

Red shook his head. "Nope, I always rode solo. RoboBabe-"

"Enid," Jason chimed in.

"Who?" asked Daisy.

"Never mind," Red dismissed. "The _robot_ just showed up at my aunt's garage after I got my bike tricked out. It was in the shop, before we jacked that time machine, remember?"

"Yeah, but didn't it break down, or something?" Daisy asked.

"Nah, it was nothing serious, just a glitch with the electrical system," Red shrugged. "A few months ago, I messed up trying to wire that cool-looking robot skull to the bike, so its eyes would light up whenever I rode around. Aunt Hedda rewired it for me, though."

In between bites and chews of her pizza, Marcie absently committed Red's bike troubles to memory. She reached the point where he mentioned why the bike needed work done to it, when the next two words he said, automatically, made her stiffen in recall, to a time when the only thing, foremost on her mind, was survival, and she saw pieces falling neatly into a weird and surprising place.

"Wait a minute!" she gasped. "Robot skull? You mean the head of that Questoid that we fought in the junkyard?"

Again, Red shrugged. "Yeah, why?"

The sun came out in Marcie's mind, and she gave a grin. "That's it! Your aunt did more that just wire that head, Red, she might have brought that thing back to life. _That's_ must be why that other Questoid is following you!"

Despite the unforeseen danger created by his aunt's prowess with vehicles, an unconcerned Red's chest puffed up with pride. "What can I say? My aunt's the best when it comes to hogs."

"Yeah! Come to think of it, that _does_ make sense!" Jason piped up with understanding.

"Yeah, of course, it does!" Red concurred in the heat of the conversation, not exactly sure why, suddenly. "We're talking about the same thing, right?"

"Guys, what do you mean?" asked Daisy, trying to get a perplexed Red back on subject.

"Whenever I damaged the prototype, it would inform to its tech team, so it could be upgraded. Meaning that it had on-board communication," said Marcie.

Jason reasoned. "And that it must've been in its head. After Aunt Hedda wired the head to your bike's electrical system, whenever you started it up, the battery must've powered the head, and it sent out some sort of distress signal."

"Dr. Quest must have sent out your stalker to bring the head back for analysis, and get rid of you, as a witness," said Marcie. "But, this is even better!"

Red gave her a troubled look. "What is this, a nerd thing? How is this better? I thought I had a psycho girl stalking me. Now, I find out that it's another one of those psycho _robots!_ "

Marcie beamed, unabated. "Because, now, we have a way of locating where it came from, another one of Quest's hidden labs, no doubt, possibly here in Crystal Cove! Which means that we might be able to find out what Greenman's end game is, now that he, obviously, changed history. And because you kept that head, Red Herring, _you are a certified genius!_ "

Marcie, sitting at the end of her side of the booth, easily stepped out of it, to give Red a big, grateful hug.

Red, sitting next to Daisy, on his side, worried that she would be jealous, said to her, "Hey, I know what it looks like, but you know that I don't date nerds. They're too smart. That's why I like to be around you!"

Sighing, Daisy rolled her eyes at his, typically, clumsy attempt at flattery.

"Oh, you silver-tongued devil," she muttered, sarcastically.

Marcie heard a quiet ringtone against Red's chest. "Red, you've got a call," she informed him, standing up to allow Red to answer the cell phone he kept in his leather vest's inner pocket.

"Hello? Oh, hi, Aunt Hedda," he said. "What's up?"

Through the speaker, he heard a frantic voice gasp, "Red, get to the garage, quick! There's a crazy woman in here who wants to talk to you! Hurry, Red! She's bending a tire iron and smells like low tide!"

His face tightened into a mask of panicked worry. "I'm comin' Aunt Hedda! Hold on!"

"What's wrong?" asked Daisy.

Red jumped to his feet, ready for action, but not knowing what to do, except mentally prepare to capitulate to Enid's demands. "That-That robot's got Aunt Hedda! They're at the garage! You see? This is what I was trying to avoid! Now, what am I gonna do?"

Marcie frowned in thought. "I would've thought that she'd detect the head when you drove here, and began searching the neighborhood for it. I was thinking of a plan to lure her into a trap with it, but now, she's forcing you to bring the head to _her_! She's smarter than I thought!"

"Huh?" gulped Red. Was Marcie _admiring_ that thing?

She then raised a finger and said, "Don't worry, Red. I'll have to modify my plan, but if we work fast, it should work."

"Well, what do we do?" Jason asked, nervously.

"Simple. We know what she wants; we just have to give it to her."

* * *

Red rounded the corner and rode his bike through the circuit of streets that comprised the neighborhood towards his aunt's garage. With all of the noise the bike was producing, there was no sense in being subtle.

He fumed at Marcie's logic. He didn't like being live bait for something that would have had little trouble dispatching him, but in the back of his fretful mind, he knew that this was the best way to both entice Enid into approaching him, and draw her out for the trap, whatever that was.

Coming from up the street, he approached and turned into the parking lot of the garage. From what he saw, as he parked, he realized that Enid was not one for subtlety, either.

The Questoid, covered with loose strands of aquatic plant life in her hair, dried mud caked on her hands and feet, and one good eye, stood in front of one of the closed garage doors, brandishing a recently bent tire iron over a kneeling Hedda Herring's head.

Red had gotten the message. One strike, coupled with Enid's strength, would split open his aunt's skull like an egg.

"I know why you're after me," Red told the machine while he dismounted. "I'll give you the head, but you've gotta let my aunt go."

Enid cocked her head, slightly, to consider the request. There was nothing stopping her from exterminating the both of them once she was handed the head.

"I will consider it," she, finally, said, the first words Red ever heard from her.

He sighed. It was better than nothing.

He turned from her to face his bike and reached for the silvery, mechanized skull that sat in its space over the headlight and between the handlebars. After a few seconds of manipulation, the skull came free in his hands, and he turned to approach Enid.

With careful motion, Red passed the skull to the machine, almost obsequiously, as though he were a supplicant giving an offering to a priestess, all to keep Enid's suspicions to a bare minimum.

Enid took the head in one hand, keeping the other gripped around the tire iron that still hung over Hedda's cranium.

Hedda glanced up at her nephew, not understanding about anything that was transpiring, and asked him, in a whisper, "Red, what's going on? Who is she?"

"Don't worry, Aunt Hedda," he said, in low tones, to calm her. "I'll tell you all about it, later."

As if to interrupt the moment between them, Enid interjected with, "Unlikely."

The Questoid brought the head of the prototype up to her face for closer inspection, turning it this way and that, studying its machined features and detailing as best it could without stereoscopic vision. Its weight was understandable for its construction, yet its design looked much simpler than she thought, with not nearly as much external ports on its metallic surface.

"Well," Red pressed Enid. "Are we good?"

His silent answer was a surprising lowering of her weapon arm, while she continued to peruse the skull close to her face.

Hedda looked over to Red, and saw him close his big hand and move his fingers into a loose fist, as if he were manipulating something in his closed palm. Her eyes locked on to his for a moment, in time for him to risk a hard glance at his bike, behind him. He saw her look past him to the motorcycle, and hoped that she understood the meaning.

Enid was about to stop her inspection, when she noticed something on one of the skull's temples, a smeared, silvery fingerprint. Paint!

"Deception!" Enid proclaimed in indignation, just as Red brought the tiny detonator between his thumb and forefinger, and pressed the sole red button.

Being so close to Enid, he closed his eyes, braced himself, and shuddered from the inevitable sting of the explosive charge hidden in the head, that expanded into the Questoid's face, obliterating the faux head and spraying their faces, but more importantly, her only functioning _eye_ , with thick red dye.

Hedda yelped in fright at the sound of the boom, and the sudden sight of half of her nephew's grimacing face showered in red, but fortunately, she was too low to the ground to receive the brunt of the blast. She felt Red pull her up from the ground, and jerk her into a run toward the bike.

Enid frantically wiped at the colorant, spreading it all over her face. She tried to open her eye, despite the obstruction, and saw the immediate world as a narrow, dark, crimson blur.

She could still hear the motorcycle starting up, and knew that she had to act fast.

She rushed, blindly, to the sound of the engine, her hands outstretched to clutch and rend flesh and bone, but she stumbled and pitched forward into a grim faceplant, smashing into the motor oil-soaked concrete.

Her on-board computer brain, still recovering from the shock damage she sustained from Red improvised fire extinguisher attack, and getting hit by the mysterious car, last night, tried to rally her still functioning ancillary systems around the new damage, and she stood, unsteadily.

Enid quickly felt around the sides of the building, relying on her visual memory of the place to look for the usable, outdoor bathroom, when the garage was still a gas station. She needed to wash the dye from her optic, and then use the sensitive receptors in her nose to analyze and track the chemical trail of Red's motorcycle exhaust fumes, the particular scent of its hot, vaporized fuel and contaminants, while its particulates was still heavy in the air.

The hunt, surprisingly and inexplicably, had continued.


	5. Chapter 5

Holding at a respectable distance of two blocks, the car with the mysterious driver kept up with the chaos that preceded him. He didn't worry about getting lost in the traffic; all he needed to do was follow the sounds of the irate drivers ahead.

The cell phone in Red's vest chirped, just as he straightened out of a turn from a corner. Maintaining control with one hand on the handlebars, he pulled the phone out and answered it.

"Yeah, it worked!" he yelled into the receiver, to be heard above the wind. "She didn't see me turn the bomb on, when I turned my back to her! What? Let me check!"

A cacophony of car and truck horns blared to the rear of Red, prompting him to glance at one of his side view mirrors. He was not disappointed to see a crimson-faced Enid sprinting, mightily, behind the two of them, weaving between lanes of light traffic, and going at a good thirty-two miles an hour.

"She after us, now!" he reported back.

"Wait! Who's _us_?" Daisy asked from her phone.

"Me and Aunt Hedda!" Red explained, as he banked in front of a truck to give them momentary cover. "I can't bring her home! That's the first place she'd go to! Look, I'll just have to bring her along while I lead RoboBabe to you guys! Okay, we're on our way!"

* * *

Due to it being across town, the junkyard's neighborhood was relatively quiet before Red's motorcycle, eventually, banked around a corner of the wide street and rumbled through its entrance, spitting dust and gravel in its two-wheeled wake. A few moments later, Enid came down that same street, hounding the two human beings with murderous, single-mindedly programmed zeal.

Red bore into the maze-like mountain range of junk piles up ahead, and then, turned down a particular path, preparing to pass by a large mound of scrap and hitting his horn, as he approached.

He passed it, as the seemingly indefatigable machine began to close the distance.

Enid, focusing on Red, reached the mound to pass it, herself, but paid no attention to the open path on the other side of the it, and although the sound of a revving engine from that side, reached her ears, she couldn't react fast enough to the approaching rear of a sports car roaring from it, due to her blind side.

Daisy hit the brakes when she felt her car shudder from impacting the automaton, its kinetic energy sending Enid flying, head over heels in a high-speed aerial cartwheel, into the mound, with enough force to partially embedding her in its side.

"I love coming here!" Daisy crowed, putting the car into Drive, and peeling away from the area, while Enid tried to dig and maneuver her body out of the junk hill.

When he saw Red skid his bike to a stop at a nearby rise, and help to get his aunt off the vehicle, Jason jogged from the safety of another mound further ahead, to meet them.

"You made it!" Jason said, not believing the luck.

"Did ya doubt it? Okay, I want you to take Aunt Hedda someplace safe!" Red ordered him.

"Red! Red, what's going on?" Hedda asked, as Jason gestured for her to follow him.

"I'll tell you about it, when this is over, Aunt Hedda," Red said. "Right now, go with Jason. He'll hide you."

"Are you sure?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am! If there's one thing I know, besides electronics and take-out, is how to hide!" Jason said, as a point of pride, as he began to lead Hedda off in the direction of the yard's offices.

At the last minute, Red called out to Jason with a question. "Jason, where's Marcie?"

"She went to climb on top of one of the junk piles to be a look-out, but I didn't see which one," Jason yelled back.

Concerned, Red turned to look at the vista of scrap hills that spread out before him. Marcie seemed to be a vulnerable needle in a field of haystacks, with a killer robot still out and about.

After seeing Enid get slammed by Daisy from her perch on the pinnacle of the trash peak she had chosen, Marcie was starting a careful descent from it, keeping her eyes focused on the slope to control her speed, and only occasionally looking down to judge how much further she needed to go.

On one of those times, she looked down, she was thankful that she did, in her fright, because she caught sight of a limping, disheveled Enid climbing steadily up towards her.

Marcie yelped, realizing that she was too close to descend around her, and began scrambling back up the crumbling slope, Enid clawing handholds into the junk hill to give chase, like a jaguar treeing a monkey.

Just before she reached the top, Marcie chanced to make an attack, and took out a capsule from her jacket. Enid saw it leave her jacket pocket, reached out with an accelerated hand, and slapped it out of Marcie's.

The pellet bounced off the peak and out of sight.

"Let me guess," Marcie said, stepping away and rubbing at her stinging hand. "A Questoid?"

"Assessment correct, Marcia Anne Fleach."

"It speaks! Well, at least you didn't call me Hot Dog Water," Marcie mumbled.

"New designation acknowledged-Hot Dog Water."

"Way to go," she chided herself, bitterly.

"Mission...parameters. Track prototype distress signal, recover prototype remains, and eliminate any witnesses."

"That sounds like a full day," Marcie said, flippantly.

"Assessment correct, but irrelevant."

"Not to me."

Marcie looked down around her on the junk mountain's peak, and saw a dented hubcap by her foot. Judging that the gynoid was, at the moment, too far to react, she reached down, plucked up the metal covering, and flung it hard at Enid, in one desperate motion.

The machine's sole optic tracked the disc's trajectory and brought her hand out to catch it. It crumpled and deformed where it was caught and was dropped away. She then limped forward.

"Our combat database has updated...files on your weapons capability, Hot Dog Water."

"Stop calling me that!" Marcie growled, slowing her retreat when she looked back at the edge of the summit, and noticed that it was a long, hard way down the mountain.

Enid ignored her. "We do not breath, or have...organic eyes, so your Discouragers will have no effect, and we have sufficient strength to break free from...your Insta-Ice encasements."

To punctuate the fact, Enid approached the hesitant Marcie, and reached out for her, causing the frightened girl to back away and fall, when the garbage under her weight, collapsed.

Marcie, reflexively, tucked into a protective ball to avoid cutting and bruising herself on the rusted steel and iron scrap that jutted from the mountain sides, but her haphazard tumble made her descent rough and dangerously fast.

The ordeal came to a shuddering end, when she reached the base of the rise and rolled a few feet away, winded, dizzy, and sore.

She wanted to stay where she was, to catch her breath and collect her swirling wits, but she could already hear Enid coming down from a controlled slide down the peak, freeing loose junk in her wake, which bounced and landed around Marcie, as she attempted to stand.

By the time Enid had reached the bottom, Marcie was brandishing a bent golf club, fairly certain that it would do little good against her opponent, as Enid stepped past the littered refuse to reach Marcie.

"Hey!"

Enid turned her head to see Red standing a few feet away, staring her down. She also saw that he was holding Marcie's lost capsule. She favored him her brief attention.

"I have already stated that such weapons are obsolete," Enid said, looking at the orb.

"You didn't tell _me_ ," Red told her before reaching back and pitching it the capsule at her.

Again, her good optic tracked the small weapon's path, and caught it before could strike her.

To demonstrate his folly, Enid's fingers tightened around the sphere to crush and destroy it, the tiny ball succumbing and getting compressed in her grip, leaking dark blue fluid between her fingers.

Whereby, it released, what felt to her, a chemically-conveyed thunderbolt in miniature that raced through her arm and into the metal framework of her damaged, ungrounded body, raging through unshielded conduits, killing motors, and frying every vulnerable circuit pathway and motherboard that its raving electrical fingers could touch.

Enid spasmed, and then, froze in sudden inactivity, as she suffered circuitry failure on a massive scale, and fell on the gravelly, rust-scented ground, sporting a rictus mask of wide-eyed dysfunction that look, humanly, like shocked frustration.

Marcie noticed Jason run upon the scene, curious to see Enid's final condition, and then, said to the defunct robot. "Maybe, but there's _always_ room for improvement."

With that, she went over and gave Jason a high-five.

Daisy approached the gang after seeing Enid's fall, and asked, "What was that about?"

"Yeah," Red wondered, as well. "What the heck did I throw at her?"

"What Jason and I were working on, for while," Marcie explained. "I was inspired by what my robot counterpart used when we came to Earth-001. She called it LEMP, liquid electromagnetic pulse."

"When we came back, Marcie wanted to make a capsule form of that, so we put our heads together and came up with the first LEMP capsule," Jason said, proudly. "She made the conductive solution and I made the pressure sensor and the power source to set it off. Neat, huh?"

"Thanks for giving it its first test, Red," said Marcie. "I think it passed the trials."

Red had to slow everything down, mentally, to get ahead of the moment. All his philosophy of brute force managed to do was slow the gynoid down, or make it more determined to see his end. It took something soft, in his estimation, something he knew he didn't understand, science, to finally put the beast down.

Red knew that he was lucky to see the capsule fall to where he was checking around that particular mound for Marcie, and recalled seeing her use similar capsules, to throw them at a problem, and thought that it couldn't hurt to do the same. Still, that kind of unfamiliar power that science had put into his hands was sobering.

"Well, what do we do with that overgrown Wendy Wet 'Em Doll?" he asked.

Daisy, staring at Enid, thought for a moment on how to dispose of her. She knew that none of them wanted to come near that thing. Then, she thought to make a casual glance over at one of the cranes that loomed over the junk heaps, and gave a sly grin.

"What else? We take out the trash," she said.

* * *

The well-bribed crane operator deftly maneuvered the magnetic crane towards the concrete and metal walled pit. It trundled loudly yards from the target, its far-reaching boom carrying its light, yet unexpected load.

The irony was not lost on the gang that Enid was soon going to the same place that so efficiently put an end to the prototype that she had been searching so hard for. In a way, and in a few moments, she would be with it.

The ponderous vehicle stopped and held Enid's inert form over the industrial shredder's ever-open maw, the floor, with its curved, case-hardened steel teeth and magnetic walls, promised to make short work of yet another Questoid.

With his thumb lightly stroking the thick green button of the shredder's cabled remote control, Red, the gang, and Aunt Hedda gathered over the edge, like funeral attendants peering into a fresh grave, waiting.

They watched the automaton gracefully drop from the crane's switched-off electromagnet into the pit with a heavy thud, which was downed out by the sound of the crane's idling diesel engine.

"Would anyone like to say a few words?" Daisy asked in mock-solemnity.

"Yeah. We better find a different place to get rid of these Questoids," Jason said. "Or they're gonna start charging us."

Red gave a cocky smirk, and said, "Hey, if it ain't broke...we keep breakin' 'em, here."

With that, he depressed the button, allowing the shredder to run through its cycle, powering up its relentless motors so that its tearing, rotating teeth consumed Enid in an explosion of disassembly, its magnetic field keeping her remnants from shooting up at the witnesses.

In two minutes, everything that was the oddly named Questoid, Enid, was devoured behind the ripping teeth of its industrial tomb.

A grateful silence followed Red's pressing of the Stop button, while the driver had already shut down his crane and left to enjoy his impromptu bonus.

That selfsame silence was then broken by Hedda's insistent request, "Now, will somebody tell me what's going on?"

* * *

"Now, that we've _de-accessorized_ your bike, Red, we can try and access that head's systems," Marcie said, as she and the gang, plus Aunt Hedda marched in the direction of the main office building. "We need to know where it sent that signal, and any other intel it has."

She regarded Jason. "Do you think that you'll be able to do that?"

Jason, carrying the prototype's skull tucked under his pudgy arm, shrugged confidently. "If it's got wires, I'm all over it, like a cannoli, but this'll take more specialized equipment than what I, normally, use. Luckily, we have just the thing that should help."

They arrived at the main building, and then, walked around to its rear. Parked right where it was left behind, was the green and white Quest Industries technician truck that served as the Questoid prototype's command center, repair bay, and mobile robotics lab.

The rear loading door was unlocked and rolled open, letting daylight enter the dark robotics lab in the back. In the dim light, they could see a central work platform, reminiscent of an operating table, dominating the lab.

Hung from the ceiling, over the table, were articulated metal arms holding tiny arc welders, soldering irons, and diagnostic/IO plugs. Small lockers and shelves filled with tools and robotic parts, lined the walls, with pressurized tanks standing in the corners of the work area, like columns.

"It's a good thing nobody drove it away," said Marcie.

Daisy shook her head. "No way. The Blake name carries weight in this town. The yard's owner and I have a little…arrangement. I'll pay top dollar for all the cool junk I can carry, as long as no one messes with the truck."

"All of the equipment needed to fix the prototype is in here," Jason replied. "Give me a little time, and I'll have that nut cracked and singing like a canary."

Marcie gave him a quizzical look. "That's a strange image, but okay, Jason, you work your magic."

She then turned to address the others. "This is it, guys. If everything works out, we can, finally, find out what Greenman and Quest are up to."

* * *

Parked across the street from the junkyard, the car with the mysterious driver, slowly drove from the neighborhood. For him, the chase was finally over, and there was nothing else, or left, to follow.

A sullen technician, a robotics programmer, stood inside Greenman's home office, silently waiting for its owner to acknowledge him, as he sat at his desk and worked with his computer. Then, he looked away from his monitor, for a moment, to address the visitor.

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting," Greenman apologized, smoothly. "I had to check on my finances. Now, did you have any trouble tracking down your wayward robot?"

The technician hung his head, slightly, as he reported. "No, but its signal is gone. It's been destroyed, probably by those kids that it went after."

"No doubt. I'm sure Marcie had a hand in its destruction," Greenman muttered to himself.

"Who?"

Greenman waved away the comment. "No one important. Now, tell me, why did it go rogue, in the first place?"

"Because of the new code that you wanted me to write," the technician complained. "It was rushed when I wrote it. It caused all kinds of errors to creep into the robot's operating system. It wasn't suppose to be running around town, looking for those prototype remains without authorization. The last thing we need is for something to give our hide-out away. You'll have to give me more time to fine-tune the program."

"But," Greenman calmly countered. "I thought I gave you something even better than more time. _Motivation_."

"Look, I know what you're planning to do, and you promised that if I did this for you, my family would be safe when the sacrifices come," he snapped, not noticing until too late, the iron that formed in his words. The last thing he wanted was for his assumed defiance to be paid for with the blood of his loved ones.

Yet, Greenman sounded unperturbed. "Yes, I was there when I told you, but it's obvious that you're not quite done, yet. So, I'll give you a _little_ more time."

"Thank you," the grateful programmer sighed.

Greenman gave him a dismissive wave, as he told him, "Go back to Quest's base and finish working on it. I'd like it to be done, soon, after all, an emperor should have followers worthy of him."

The programmer gave a nod, and then, left the office, already pondering on where to take his family when this town went under.

It was plain to him that Greenman was crazy, but he was the worst kind of crazy, the rich and powerful kind, and if he and his family were in the way of that kind of crazy, then he would do whatever was necessary to satisfy it, and then, be as far away from it, as humanly possible.


End file.
